


To Lose A Friend

by BookshopLaura



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:57:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookshopLaura/pseuds/BookshopLaura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas muses about death as only an elf can</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Lose A Friend

Death

Death isn't something Elves experience often. Not many elves Legolas' age have lost anyone. They were born long after the dark days of the battles with Sauron on the slops of Mount Doom and the time of Isildur. Those who had lived through that time were quiet and sombre about it. There were names of elves who had died, and it saddened people but he had never met them. He found reading of them sad, but it was distant. Now, as he sat by the fire watching Gimli and Aragorn talk across the ash and the crackling he found himself thinking and worrying in ways he hadn't before. 

The night is cool, but the fire on their faces is warm, burning even. It makes Gimli's cheeks redder, he looks so healthy and so full of life. And yet, and yet. As Gimli bit enthusiastically into a piece of salted meat Legolas' gaze drifts down to the scratches on Gimli's armour. They're not much, and Gimli is brave and a skilled warrior. But there were moments when Legolas had just caught an enemy before they took off the dwarf's head. Or Aragorn's for that matter. And surely they've done the same for him. They're a team, a fighting unit. They have each other's backs. But all it will take is one arrow, one swing of a sword or axe. 

He turns away, as images fill his mind. Images he's never had to contemplate before. He sees Gimli, an axe buried in his neck, face pale and unmoving, blood pouring crimson in spurts over the axe. But Legolas struggles to wrap his mind around it, just as he had with the lose of Gandalf. How can something so alive cease to be so? He looks up again to see Gimli laugh at something Aragorn has said. He is so vital, his eyes dance or scowl or roll. And they are scowling at him now. 

"What is it, elf? Do you take offence that I bested you?"

Legolas smiles.

"I take no offence, Gimli, my thoughts were elsewhere" he apologises, leaning down to pick up a piece of Lembas. 

"Really? Care to share your thoughts?" asks Gimli, clearly unimpressed.

"They are dark thoughts, Gimli, I would not burden you with them" he says more sombrely. 

"And let them burden you alone? Please, Legolas, share." says Aragorn 

"I... my people are not accustomed to... living so closely with death."

"Gandalf" says Gimli sobering. Legolas doesn't correct him. It seems so ridiculous to be scared of losing someone who is very much alive.

"Was he the first companion you have lost, my friend?" asks Aragorn. Legolas nods.

"Does it always hurt this much?" he asks

"Yes, it does" says Gimli, with feeling. Legolas studies him. Gimli has lost more than he. Gimli has walked through the tomb of his kin, walked among their broken, rotting corpses. Legolas can't help but picture Mirkwood strewn with dead elves. His father, brothers, friends. Or Lorien, the eternal beauty of Galadriel, her flawless brow tarnished with rot, her once elegant hand wripped open to reveal bone next to white moulding flesh riddled with maggots. And is that so far from possible?

"Legolas?" Aragorn's voice pulls Legolas from his reverie.

"I'm sorry. My mind wanders to dark places. What if this darkness is not defeated? And even if it is"

Even if they defeat this evil. What of those who have been, who will be lost. What if Gimli is lost? Or Aragorn? Legolas tries to pretend the first does not sting more than the second, but the truth is both would break his heart. And the truth is they are both mortal. He must lose them at some point. He must be parted from Gimli. By death or the billowing seas, they will be parted. He must live endless days with only the memory of Gimli's laugh or struggling to remember how Gimli would tease him over something he finds strange in elves. How empty, how hollow his life will be. 

"Legolas!" Gimli's voice is more insistant, more demanding. More present.

"We're not dead yet, Laddie!" he says in that voice which insists on seeing Legolas as a child, despite Legolas' far greater age. And Gimli is right, he has been wallowing too long. Gimli is still here, who knows for how long with their foes surrounding them on every front. He should not mourn whilst he has him, has them both. He picks up his bow to clean it, and to check his arrows. This at least he can do to lessen the chance that tomorrow he will lose one of them.


End file.
